MissManaged

Tobin smiled broadly and squeezed my hand. “You won’t regret it, Charlotte. We’ll get your financials turned around in no time and your business thriving.”

That all sounded great to me, but his next words made me reconsider my agreement.

“Let’s go through everything, make a plan, and establish some rules,” he said. “Do you have a blank notebook where we can write everything down?”

“I do, but I’m not so sure I need rules, Tobin.”

“Of course, you do, Charlotte. Everyone needs rules in their life. There are always consequences for your actions, whether it’s having your electricity shut off because you didn’t pay your bills or having to eat ramen every day because you spent your grocery money on a night out with the girls.” I winced because he’d noticed both those things when he reviewed my financial spreadsheet. “Wouldn’t a spanking be a better consequence then either of those things?”

My eyes widened in surprise at his blunt question. How could he just say something like that with no warning?

“I’ll go get that notebook.”

I stood and hurried to my bedroom to hide my flaming face, which was an entirely new reaction to his mention of spanking. Instead of making me angry, the thought of being spanked by Tobin again made me feel naughty and embarrassed, which I assumed was the point. But it also made me just the tiniest bit horny, hence my running off to hide.

For the first time, I could kind of, sort of, maybe, see the appeal of consenting to the type of relationship Mellie had with Dixon.

But I wasn’t about to admit that to anyone, and especially not Tobin.

I took a second to compose myself before I drew in a deep breath, straightened my spine, and sailed back to the table with a bright smile on my face.

“Here’s a notebook. I’m excited to get started. What do we need to do first? Update my financials? Probably pay my overdue bills first, right?” I sat in my chair, pulled the stack of bills to my side of the table, and started filling in the rows of my spreadsheet like it was the most important task I’d ever done.

From Tobin’s smirk I knew I wasn’t fooling him. My diarrhea of the mouth probably didn’t help.

Thankfully, he ignored my discomfort and got down to business.

“Do you have mobile deposit?” he asked, and when I nodded, he continued, “Let’s deposit this check from Pastor Brown and schedule all these bills to be paid as soon as it clears. Then we’ll come up with a plan to get the business back on track, which will definitely include talking to Kenny about her project as a first step, and then we’ll talk about the rules.”

He speared me with a look that made my belly flip, but the thought of approaching Kenny about business quickly squashed any funny feelings I had for Tobin. As much as I dreaded that conversation, I knew I was being silly. My friends wanted to support me, and I provided a service that Kenny needed. Simple as that.

“Okay, I’m ready,” I said, hoping my words were true.

Fake it ‘til you make it, right?

We spent an hour working through my past-due bills, and I was relieved to find that my mental calculations were correct. I could bring everything important current, with money left over for groceries and gas. Then we moved on to mapping out the next two months of business planning, giving me a step-by-step plan of what I needed to do to get back on the right path.

Through it all, Tobin listened to my opinion, provided advice, and didn’t talk down or over me once. We created the plan together and when we were done, I was thrilled with what we’d accomplished.

“I can’t thank you enough for this, Tobin,” I said as I closed the notebook.

“Not so fast, Charlotte,” he replied, opening the notebook back up and turning to the inside front cover. “We need to establish the rules and then you need to write them down in the front so they’re easy to find.”

“Oh, I don’t think we need rules now that I have this great plan,” I stammered. I felt my face turning pink and tried to get up, but he stopped me with a gentle hand on my arm.

“We’re doing the rules.”

The firmness of his statement held me in place, and for some reason I couldn’t explain, I picked up the pen and got ready to write.

“The first rule is going to be that you are not allowed to speak poorly of yourself. I don’t want to hear that you’re not capable or not good enough, ever again.”

I looked up at him in shock, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

“Not what you were expecting?” he asked and chuckled. “I want you to have confidence in yourself and the first step is to eliminate all that negativity, so write that down as number one. No negative self-talk, even if it’s just in your head.”

I scowled at that. “You can’t tell me what to think.”

“I can and I will, and I’ll be able to tell when you’re doing it by the look on your face and your attitude,” he replied, unfazed by my frown. “Write it down.”

I sighed but did as instructed. “What’s rule number two?”

“What do you think the second rule should be?”

He surprised me again, and then I surprised myself when I found myself saying, “No spending money I don’t have. I have to stay within my budget.”

Budgeting had never been an issue before. In college, my father paid for everything, and after he stopped funding my life, I was fine because of the significant amount of savings I had from hiding my earnings away. It was only over the last six months that my stash began to run out, and I wasn’t bringing in enough to cover my expenses.

“I think that’s a great one,” Tobin said. “Write it down.”

When I finished, I looked up and found him watching me with a look that was not what I would describe as friendly. It was heated. Hungry. And made my face flame in response.

“Rule number three is to be respectful.”

Uh, what?

“I’m not sure what that has to do with my financials, Tobin.” Even as I said the words, I knew he’d call me out on my deliberately obtuse statement.

Somewhere between the time he’d walked into my house and now, we’d turned a corner and were now headed somewhere completely different from what I’d planned. I wasn’t sure of the destination, yet, but a strictly professional business relationship wasn’t it.

“It has to do with the fact that there’s far more than that going on here, Charlotte, whether or not you want to admit it. But even if you don’t, friends aren’t rude and disrespectful to each other, right?”

My emotions might be giving me whiplash, but I couldn’t lie. Not when it felt like his eyes were seeing into my soul.

“No, I suppose not,” I admitted.

“Then that’s your third rule. Write it down.”